The Journey
by Sophia-Silfaery
Summary: The sequel to 'Weariness' in which Celeborn and Maglor make the journey to Valinor.


The boat rocked gently. All he could see was water, water as far as the eye could see in every direction, glittering and sparkling under the moonlight, glinting silver where the starlight caught the waves. The only sounds he had heard in many days had been the creak of the wood as the sails strained against the breeze and the gentle brush of the sea against the prow as it cleaved its way forward to Valinor.

The noise of the forests had only become apparent by its absence. For as long as he had endured in Ennor the whisper of living things had echoed in his heart even when there had been no sounds to speak of. At first he had relished in the peace, but now he found himself yearning for the forests with a homesickness that he could only compare to the sea-longing of the Exiles.

"You are torn, are you not?"

After such a prolonged quiet, Maglor's voice took him by surprise, and he scowled at being read so easily.

"Why say you this, Makalaurë? Is it not you who are torn?"

"Nay, not I," the Fëanorian gazed up at the expanse of the night sky where Eärendil burned overhead. "I know where my heart lies."

"As do I," Celeborn replied brusquely. "It was not lightly that I decided to sail."

But Maglor was not to let this rest. "I see it in your very being - you are torn, you ache for your home. I know well the signs, for I saw them in my kin and in my own heart for many years."

"What concern is it of yours what lies in my heart?"

"More than you can know. Valinor is no island to be reached, it is a state to be attained."

"And I desire to attain it. Why speak you of matters of the mind when it is quite obvious that one simply sets a boat and sails. If what you claim were true then why not simply wish yourself into Valinor?"

Celeborn watched in amusement at the flash of fire in the other's eyes at such a blithe dismissal.

"Oh, curse your blind eyes," Maglor retorted, "all Sindar are alike! All of you self-willed and stubborn to the point of distraction!"

"Yes," Celeborn said mildly, "stubborn indeed."

The rebuke was well hidden so as to allow Maglor the freedom to let it pass if he so chose. Celeborn leaned back and watched over steepled fingers as the Noldo in turn regarded him.

"I spoke foolishly," said Maglor finally, "but even if the words were badly chosen the message rings true. You are a people so practical that you cannot appreciate that which is beyond the realm of ordinary sense."

The next sentence hung awaited but as yet unvoiced in the still night air.

"To find the straight path, one must seek it with all their being. You cannot sail while you are still tied to the mortal realms, it would be like the _fëa_ trying to bring a body into the Halls."

"I cannot help but long for what I left." Celeborn felt helpless against this seemingly unassailable obstacle. "And I do not know what it is I seek," he said finally, surprising even himself at the realization. Maglor narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"It is well what you spoke to me on those shores. We cannot return one of us without the other. You needed more than direction, you needed understanding, and no Elf born on Ennor can have that."

"I wish to know why you left."

"We both know well the reasons why I left." Maglor replied sourly. "And we both know I fear to return, so let us not contemplate that matter until we have addressed our more immediate concerns."

"Then why did she leave? Why did they flee from what all now describe as paradise? Am I sailing into a prison, a gilded cage where I will be trapped?" The questions tumbled out like water from behind a dam and Maglor watched him, wide eyed.

"I wondered that myself," he replied quietly, "you and I are very alike in our own way."

Maglor allowed the words to die away and Celeborn resolutely refused to show the irritation that the Noldo sought to arouse in him.

The waters had calmed, reflecting the moon as it sank on the horizon, making it seem as if the great white face of Ithil had simply chosen to bathe in the waters awhile to escape the heat and light of day. Celeborn regarded the scene contemplatively.

"Tell me, what is it that makes us so alike?"

Maglor sighed deeply. "We make great sacrifices for those we love."

Celeborn frowned. Maglor, who had seemed so animated, now threatened to retreat once more to silence and leave him without the answers he craved. Risking all, he pressed on.

"It was Galadriel who said it was a cage, a beautiful paradise, but a cage nonetheless."

"It was paradise," Maglor said softly, "but they could not see it. Even when it was darkened it was still our home. We should never have left it."

"Yet you all left it. Why was that?"

"You are still too constrained by your fears. You see the longing in me, in your wife and now you see it in yourself. Look into yourself and you will know Valinor is no cage, it is our home, it is where we were meant to be."

As the other spoke, Celeborn drew in a sharp breath of surprise and awe. For the first time since their first encounter so long ago in Doriath, he could see the light of the trees in Maglor's eyes. It spilled over into his face and movements, filling them with an unearthly grace. Then, as he beheld the radiance of Valinor in the eyes of the Exile, he became aware of a peace, a total and all penetrating silence. The sound of the waves had died away and the boat no longer rocked or groaned on the waters.

He craned his head over side of the boat and saw only grey mists hovering above the waters. Had they now become completely becalmed? The air had become cold and hung in clouds of silver frost as he breathed out. When he looked up, the stars blazed overhead bright and fierce.

"Where have the clouds gone?" he gasped, taken aback at the sudden intensity of the light.

Maglor gave a shout of exhilaration and leapt to his feet. "_Ela_!" he cried, and his voice was full of joy.

Then once more, quietly, "Look. Do not speak, only look."

On the distant horizon, Celeborn now saw what it was that had so captivated Maglor -White shores burning brightly like a ribbon of light against the dark blue of the sky.

"Say farewell to Ennor, Celeborn the Wise, for you shall not see it again while the world endures!"

Maglor laughed in delight. "Look over the edge of the boat, if you have the courage, and see the lands on which you walked."

Stunned by the vision before his eyes, Celeborn stood and gazed down into the mists, expecting to see water glittering just beneath. Instead the mists parted altogether as they came ever closer to the white shores and he fell back in alarm.

The sea shone like silver glass, as he had expected, but it seemed a thousand leagues below him. They were suspended in the air, flying like eagles; it now became apparent that what he had taken to be mists were in fact the clouds themselves.

"How came we to this place?" he whispered faintly, caught between abject terror and pure elation.

"We have freed ourselves. There below lies that which was and there ahead lies that which is."

Despite the apparent steadiness of their vessel, Celeborn could not silence that part of him which insisted clouds could not support two Elves and a wooden boat. His hands flew out in panic, gripping the wood until they turned white.

"We shall fall!"

"Nay, peace- the Valar hold us now. See-we are almost home."

The clouds faded away and the sound of water lapping gently against the boat could be heard once more. As his terror faded, Celeborn looked about him in all directions, and all he could see was water, behind, to the side and in front of the boat. It was as if he had simply dreamed all that had just happened, but he knew that it had been truth.

"We have passed beyond the circles of mortal lands." Maglor said at last.

"Aye, and the fright of it almost sent me through the Halls of Mandos," Celeborn replied, half laughing in spite of himself. He felt lighter somehow, as if all his cares were falling away, as they drew into the shallow waters that bordered the long beach.

Maglor turned to him and smiled with shining eyes. "Now you feel the peace of the Blessed Realm. I promise you, Celeborn, that this is but the first taste of the fruits you will discover."

The sand grated roughly against the underside of the hull, destroying Celeborn's last fading reservations that this was all some splendid illusion to entice him into plunging to his doom.

Maglor stepped out immediately onto the smooth unmarked surface and fell to his knees, touching the ground with his forehead in a gesture of reverence for the sacred land. Celeborn remained in the boat, waiting awkwardly, unsure of what to do now that the moment had finally come. Two figures emerged over the crest of the dunes and walked toward them. He would have said that their features were obscured by the sun, so brightly did they shine, but Anor, rising in the east, lay to the back of them.

They approached Maglor, who still knelt in the sand.

"Makalaurë." The voice was that of a woman, gentle as the brush of a leaf against the skin. "Do not kneel in fear. Rise, child, it is a joy to see you among us again."

Celeborn did not hear Maglor's reply, only the response of the second figure, whose deep voice marked him as a man. "It is not from us that you needed leave to return, but from those you wounded, and it seems that you have received it. Go now, there are many who wish to greet you." Maglor bowed once more and walked away without a word.

As the gaze of the two bright beings turned to him, Celeborn felt decidedly shabby. In Ennor, he had been one of the bright ones, an Elf, an immortal being admired by all. Here, this was no longer, all around him shone with subtle light and he was but a shadow against the brilliance. It was a disconcerting and humbling realization.

He tried to speak, but could not find any words he deemed fit to address such ethereal glory. All paled and faded into nothingness beneath its purity. He forgot the journey, the strife, the loss and the pain, only wanting to remain in this moment of adoration.

"Why do you remain in your ship, Celeborn? Do you fear us so much?"

The woman spoke as softly as before but he felt overwhelmed by even those few words. "How do you know me?" he asked, feeling once again lost and confused as her words interrupted the peace. "I recall neither your names or manner."

The sound of tinkling laughter tripped lightly into the air. "Come, child, we have long looked upon you and desired to speak with you."

The Lady held out one shining hand and, half dazed, he reached out and took hold of it, stepping at last onto the land of Aman.

"Now do you know me, Celeborn son of Galadhon?"

Elbereth!

A jolt of nervous energy raced through him.

He was holding the hand of a Valar!

He heard her laugh once more at the look of sheer disbelief he knew was plain on his face. Still smiling, she turned and spoke to her husband.

"Our lost son has returned, the last rift is healed. Come let us go to welcome feast and let him greet his kin."


End file.
